


Last Bachelor Party Ever

by SnowboundMermaid



Category: How I Met Your Mother
Genre: Best Friends, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 03:32:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6499126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowboundMermaid/pseuds/SnowboundMermaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Ted makes Barney promise to provide a classy bachelor party, things don't go exactly as anybody had planned. Ignores finale. Inspired by a discusssion on the BarneyRobin LJ.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Best Laid Plans

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own HIMYM or anything vaguely related to it; this is my own what-if imagining only.

"Marshall, I want you to put Barney under oath."

Marshall set his beer down on the table in their usual booth at MacLaren's. "Is that really necessary?"

"Of course it's necessary. I just agreed to let Barney plan my bachelor party, so I think I am entitled to some assurance that I am not going to wake up on the morning of what ought to be my wedding to Tracy in some alley in Taiwan, with a facial tattoo and nipple piercing."

Both men looked to Barney, who merely sipped his scotch. "I'm fine with that."

Ted scowled. Being put under oath or the whole Taiwan thing?"

"Oath. As your best man-"

Marshall didn't let him finish. "Co-best man. Because Ted has best men, right, Ted? Two, not just one."

Ted nodded his assent. "Barney is in charge of planning the bachelor party, and Marshall is in charge of making sure Barney doesn't do anything too crazy."

"Good luck with that," Marshall and Barney said at once, followed immediately by "Jinx." They stared at each other, brows knit in puzzlement.

"Mutual jinxing. Neither one of you can speak until I say both of your names." Ted rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "Since this is the last bachelor party our group is ever going to have, and because it's mine, I want to keep this classy. We are mature, sophisticated adults here," he disregarded the silent smirks Marshall and Barney aimed at each other, "and we are going to treat this momentous evening with all the dignity and forethought it involves. Which means," he paused for dramatic effect, "that if I release you two from your mutual jinxing and allow you to attend, much less plan, my bachelor party, nothing is going to happen that I cannot tell Tracy about with a clear conscience the next day. Understand?

They both nodded.

"All right, then. Barney, you are in charge of planning the evening's events, as outlined in my email, and Marshall, you are going to put Barney under oath so that he is legally bound to behave like a human being."

Marshall shrugged. "Bro, put up your right hand."

Barney raised his right hand. His left hand still held the scotch. He cast a questioning glance at Ted.

"No, you do not have to put down the scotch." Ted let out an aggrieved sigh.

One corner of Barney's mouth quirked upward. Robin was going to have words for Ted next time he saw her. Filter this through a couple more drinks and Barney's retelling, and there would be waterboarding and bamboo under the fingernails.

Marshall cleared his throat. "Repeat after me: I, Barney Stinson,"

"I, Barney Stinson,"

"Do solemnly swear not to take Ted to a strip club, tattoo parlor, piercing parlor, biker bar, etcetera, cross state lines or international borders of any sort, Canada included."

Barney's right hand, still raised, clenched into a fist. "Yeah, fine, all of that."

Ted raised a finger in protest. "You didn't repeat after the judge." He weighted the last two words.

"Yeah," Barney answered, after a sip of scotch, "I'm not going to do all that. Blah blah blah, so help me God, can we be done with this already? All that stuff you're so afraid I'm going to do," Barney vowed with an expansive gesture, "I am not going to do. That's all Single Barney stuff, and, as you may have noticed, I am not Single Barney anymore."

Ted took a sip of his martini. "I was best man for both you and Robin, so yes, I am aware you are married."

"Exactly. Single Barney was the one who took all those crazy risks, because he didn't have anything to lose. Being married to Robin is a bigger thrill than some wacky adventure. Marshall, back me up on this."

Marshall leaned forward, arms braced on the table. "He's right. Being married to your best friend, the love of your life and mother of your children, that's the best adventure there could ever be. You'll see, when you and Tracy are married. I can't explain it better than that."

"Obviously," Barney said while Marshall's words still echoed, "because I was talking specifically about me being married to Robin, but you and Lily are okay, too."

"Thanks, bro. You're not really under oath."

Ted drummed his fingers on the stem of his glass. Did Barney's shoulders lose a bit of tension just then? "So, we're agreed? No strippers?"

"No strippers," Barney confirmed. "We start the evening with drinks here, then we hit the dinner theater for a fine steak and live entertainment, then cap off the night with a road trip to a mysterious destination," here, he paused to tap his fingertips together, "most assuredly within the continental United States. A destination from which you will be able to make it to the wedding, on time, sober and unpierced."

Ted sat back against the padded leather back of the booth. "Good. That's all I'm asking."


	2. Two Weeks Later

"First," Ted began as he slid into the booth, "I would like to thank you both in advance for keeping this night classy and dignified. I know it was asking a lot for the two of you to fend off the other people who were not invited to share this evening," Robin's and Lily's increasingly irate phone calls told him clearly what a difficult task that had been. "But as this is the last bachelor party our group is ever going to have, I wanted to keep things intimate. Funny that my bachelor party is the last one, huh?  
"Actually," Marshall answered, "I always counted on you being the last of our bunch to get married."

Ted bristled with affront. "Hey."

Marshall shrugged. "What, did any of us really expect Barney to ever get married?"  
The lines on Barney's forehead deepened as his brows shot upward. "Hey."

"Dude, you do have a reputation. With all the plays you've run on women in this bar alone, especially with Robin as witness to most of them, you have to admit the odds were not in your favor."

Ted allowed himself a secret smile as he splashed thirty year Glen McKenna into three tumblers. Marshall did have a point. If these walls could talk… He spared only a moment for the memories. Actually, the walls in the women's bathroom probably had a lot to say about Barney, but this wasn't the night to bring it up.

Barney's mouth slanted. "Yeah, well, I've been engaged more times than anybody else at this table. Two of those times were to my lovely wife, and Ted wouldn't even have met Tracy in the first place if it weren't for my and Robin's wedding."

"Oh, I don't know about that." Ted drew out the words and slid one glass to each of his friends. "I'd like to believe we would have met anyway. All those close calls over all those years mean we're fated."

"Fated is all well and good," Barney paused to swirl the scotch in his glass, "but there's also timing."

Ted held up a hand to stop him from saying anything else. "Is this going to be another story about how you and Robin were on and off for all those years, until you were both finally grown up enough to notice what had been there all along?"

"No, because you jumped straight to the moral of the story for me." Barney's eyes glinted. "That saves me some time, so that I can focus on my other point, which is that all those near misses you had with Tracy were only that: misses. Without the push of our wedding, you two would have been going right by each other for the rest of your lives."

Marshall jumped into the conversation. "You mean they could have; there's no way of knowing that's what would have happened, but it might have gone that way."

Ted shook his head. "No way. We're soulmates."

"Soulmates or not," Barney insisted, "timing is key. Too soon, and Tracy would have still been with Max. Too late, and she could be too old to have kids, and you don't get the whole package."

'Hey." Heat prickled the back of Ted's neck. "I don't need a package. Yes, I know how that sounded. No laughing. I need Tracy. Kids or no kids, as long as I have her, that's all I need. I'm lucky enough to have successful models of both outcomes right here, kids or no kids, so let's toast to that." He raised his glass and waited for the other two to clink theirs against it.

Marshall coughed. "Yeah, but Lily and I are more successful, right? We've been together since the first day of college, and Barney and Robin are only starting in on year three here. Sorry," he added with an apologetic glance at Barney. "Legnth of service. Oh, hey, speaking of service, did my IT guy fix the problem with the internet on your laptop?"

"Yeah, it's perfect. I get an awesome signal anywhere now. Underground, going through tunnels, even that coffee house where laptops can't hold the wifi signal, but mobile devices do. He put in an international adapter, so I can't wait to try that out when Robin and I get to Argentina. Thanks, bro." Barney and Marshall bumped fists.

Ted cleared his throat. "Um, guys, focus? Bachelor party? It's for the groom?" He waited, expectant, until direct stares from both of them assured him he had their full attention. "Barney, do you promise there are no strippers?"

Barney set down his glass. "What have I been telling you all along? I promise there are no strippers. Now, shove over so I can get out of this booth, because I have to make a pit stop."

Ted slid out of the booth to allow Barney's exit. A familiar blonde form stood silhouetted in the entrance. Quinn. A knowing smile curved Ted's lips. "Marshall." He elbowed Marshall in the ribs. "It's Quinn."

Marshall aimed a genial wave in Quinn's direction. "Been a long time since we've seen her. She looks good."

She did. Long blonde hair cascaded over the shoulders of a black trench coat. A coat, Ted observed, such as one might wear to cover the titillating costume of an exotic dancer. "A very long time, not since Barney's bachelor party."

Marshall clutched at Ted's sleeve. "Dude, no. Barney said there aren't any strippers."

Ted shook off Marshall's touch. "And yet, as soon as Barney goes to the bathroom, in walks Quinn, almost as if somebody had planned the entire thing."

"Seriously, no." Marshall slid out of his side of the booth and blocked Ted's way. "Nobody planned anything."

"Oh sure, Quinn, a stripper, chooses the night of her ex-fiancé's best friend's bachelor party to enter the bar she used to frequent with said ex-fiancé? I think not. I'd better let her down easy. I mean, how awkward would it be if she started her performance and then I told her to stop?" He took one step toward the bar.

"Not as awkward," Marshall ground from between clenched teeth, "as you going to tell her not to do a performance she was never going to do in the first place."

Marshall's words came too late. Quinn had her bag on the counter, her bottom perched on a stool as she said something to Carl. Asking him to cue up music, no doubt. Ted had to get there before she started taking props out of that bag. He bounded toward the bar. "Quinn! Hi. Remember me?"

Quinn flipped her hair behind her shoulder and cocked her head. "Barney's friend, right? Fred?"

Cute, the old pretend not to remember his name trick. Probably her way of making sure she had the right audience. "Ted, actually. Ted Mosby."

"Right. Ted. How is Barney? Is he here?" She craned her neck in the direction of the men's room. If she knew where Barney was, that had to be a sign.

"Good. He's good. In the bathroom, but you probably knew that. Still happily married, though, so sucks for you if you were thinking-"

Quinn cut him off before he could get any farther. "I'm not. I'm here to-"

The men's room door squeaked. He didn't have much time. "Look, I know why you're here, and you don't have to do it. In fact, I'm not going to let you do it."

Quinn's brows drew together. "You're not?"

"I know you mean well, and Barney meant well, but this is my bachelor party and I'm just not going to let that sort of thing taint a dignified evening for sophisticated gentlemen. I'll make sure you're paid up, though. No worries on that front. You understand."

"Sophisticated gentlemen? I thought you said you were here with Barney." The gold bangles on her wrist jingled when she waved. "Speak of the devil."

Barney adjusted his tie and took his place next to Ted. "Quinn." He greeted her with a curt nod. "What are you doing here?"

Quinn tilted her head toward Carl. "Well, I was going to settle the tab some of the girls and I ran up last night and pick up my car keys, but Ted said he wants to pay it."

"Does he? How generous. Ted, can I see you at the other end of the bar?" Barney didn't wait for a response, but took Ted by the arm and dragged him along. "Why do you want to pay Quinn's bar tab?"

"I don't. I only wanted to let her know she didn't have to strip for my bachelor party."

Barney kneaded his temple with one hand. "Okay, I don't know where you're getting your information, but it's not like priests with last rites. Quinn doesn't have to strip merely because she happens to be in a bar where a bachelor party she didn't even know about is happening."

Ted cast a glance back over his shoulder. Quinn withdrew a rhinestone-encrusted compact from her purse and reapplied lip gloss. Carl motioned toward the cash register. "So you really didn't hire her to, um, dance tonight?"

Barney answered with only a cold, dead stare.

Great. Ted dipped one hand into his jacket pocket and nodded toward Carl. "Charge?"


	3. Dinner and a Show

"Think Barney's ever coming out?" Ted cast a glance at the frosted glass doors of the dinner theater from his seat on the hard cement bench and kicked at a crumpled bit of paper on the sidewalk.

Marshall let out a long breath and crossed his arms. "I don't know. He was pretty mad. He had to pull a lot of strings to get those tickets, and they weren't cheap. I guess I can understand you thinking Quinn was working tonight, but in there?" He jerked his head in the direction of the doors.

The swell of a string quartet leaked out into the air as the door opened. Great, the overture had started, and here they were, outside. Ted and Marshall stood. Barney strode into the night, his expression thunderous as he tucked his wallet in his inside coat pocket. He stopped mere inches from Ted. "Just to be clear," he said, each word bitten off crisp and clean, "the hostess was not a stripper. Our server was not a stripper. The sommelier was not a stripper. The manager who kicked us out was not a stripper. The busser who cleared our table, ironically, is a stripper, and quoted a very reasonable rate to perform his act when he gets off at eleven." He held up two fingers, a hairsbreadth apart. "I came this close to taking him up on that offer, just to see the look on your face, but I don't particularly feel like buying you anything right now, except maybe a cab home."

Marshall glanced from Ted to Barney and summoned a forced grin. "Wow, you sound like somebody's dad. Is Ted grounded?"

Barney adjusted the drape of his coat. "If somebody is going to act like a child, then somebody else is going to have to act like a parent." His expression didn't soften, not even a little. No psych-out grin, no bouncing keys in his pocket, nothing.

Ted blinked. Still no change. "So there really aren't any strippers?" His own voice sounded weak and plaintive.

"No. There are not any strippers. You said no strippers, so I didn't hire any strippers." Barney's eyes narrowed. "Did you want strippers?"

Ted shifted his weight from one foot to the other and shoved his hands deep into his pockets. "No. I don't. It's just that, over the years, whenever I thought about you planning my bachelor party, I always figured I'd say no strippers and then you'd get strippers anyway. Like you did for Marshall," he added, only then able to look Barney in the eye.

"That was a memorable night for all involved." Marshall's voice cut in, quiet and calm, ending on a rueful laugh. "Maybe she's still available, if you've still got her number." He cast a hopeful glance toward Barney. "Pretty sad, though, if she's still working the same job after all these years."

"I don't have contact information for any strippers, except for that busboy." Barney withdrew a business card from his breast pocket and held it out to the other two, pinched between two fingers. "You want to see him that badly, one of you can call him." Neither one of them took it. He dropped the card in the trash can next to the bench. "Look, Ted, I'm sorry if I didn't come up with the bachelor party you wanted, but the party you had in mind would have been planned by Single Barney. That guy is gone, he's not coming back, and I do not miss him. Frankly, I'm surprised that you do. Have a great night." He turned on his heel, coattails flapping with the motion of long strides.

"Barney, wait." Ted had no idea what he was going to say next, only that he couldn't let him reach the yellow cab that pulled up to the curb. "I don't want you to go." That at least stopped him. "I'm sorry." Barney turned to face him, his expression blank but for one raised brow. "Look, this is a big night for me. I need you both here. Married Barney is a pretty cool dude. He's just…different."

Marshall took a step forward and clapped one hand on Ted's shoulder. "Being married does change people. Giving all of yourself to the person you love most in the whole world, and getting all of them back in return; there's nothing like that. I can't even describe it. Bachelor parties shouldn't be about how much it sucks to give up the single life. They should be about giving it the middle finger. Barney knows, right?"

At that, Barney's smile spread, slow and full. "Marriage rocks. Think about it. The hottest chick you personally have ever personally met wants to bang you and only you for the rest of her life, and she's willing to sign a legal document to that effect."

"Even without sex," Marshall added with a subtle shake of Ted's shoulder, "and there is not going to be a lot of that when you have a new baby-"

Barney took two steps forward. "Says the man with three children under five."

"I said a not a lot," Marshall's hand drew back, "not never. Even besides sex, knowing that your best friend, your lover, the mother of your children-"

"Or dogs." Barney motioned for Marshall to continue.

"Knowing that she has your back, no matter what, and you have hers, that's what people should be celebrating. Celebrate that you've found the person who will hold your hand at your father's funeral and sit next to you at your mom's wedding."

Barney was close enough now that Ted could smell the woodsy undertones of his cologne. "Celebrate that you've found the person who believes in you when you want to walk away from the career you've spent the last seventeen years chasing and start your own business instead."

A warm vibration coursed through Ted's blood, the same feeling of recognition as when he sat back from a finished blueprint. Yes. That was the way the evening was supposed to go. He threw his arms around both of his friends, despite their resistance, and drew them close. "Yes! That's what I want. I don't want to be a bachelor. I want to be a husband. I want to go grocery shopping and clean the gutters and spend Christmas with the in-laws," he stopped there, and lowered his arms. "Well, switching off with my parents. My mom and Clint one year, and then my dad can come to Tracy's parents' the next. At least until the babies start coming, and then everybody can come to us." He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "What's the most husbandly thing we guys can do tonight?"

"Go home early and bang our wives?" Barney's brow creased in thought. "Nah, that wouldn't work. Our wives are off with your soon-to-be wife, and they would not welcome us dudes cutting their party short."  
"Maybe they would if we brought that busboy," Marshall said with a tilt of his head toward the trash can.

The hum in Ted's blood grew louder and more insistent. "No. No girls, professionals or otherwise. With all the marital experience you guys have between you, there has to be some crazy adventure upon which we can embark and still celebrate how great it is that we're all going to be married at the same time. Please," he added, after neither responded. "It's for the groom." He could only assume the looks of intense concentration that passed between Barney and Marshall were a psychic conversation.

"Okay," Barney said after too long a pause for Ted's comfort. "I have an idea, but you can't see or hear anything, and you can't ask any questions."


	4. The Husband Party

Ted blinked and tugged on first one ear, then the other. He'd lost track of how long they'd driven, though he was fairly certain they hadn't crossed the Canadian border. Even Canadian border patrol would have has questions about why Marshall and Barney had Ted blindfolded and wearing noise cancelling headphones in the back seat. That wouldn't have been so bad if the headphones were hooked up to the Get Psyched mix Barney had promised instead of a continuous loop of Five Hundred Miles. "Why are we standing in front of my house?"

"Because," Marshall answered, "coming home is one of the best things about being married. Knowing, when you walk through that door, that she's going to be there, waiting for you,"

"Or," Barney finished for him, "that you're going to be the first one she sees when she comes home, that's awesome. Marshall and I talked about it while he tried to figure out how to fix the headphones. Sorry about that, by the way. This is the house where you're going to live as a husband, so it's the perfect place to celebrate that." He hefted a brown paper bag by its handles. "We got takeout from that diner my dad took us to, and that cooler Marshall is lugging out of the trunk contains not only a fine lager, but a selection of beverages that will not cloud anybody's judgment. Water, fruit juice, soft drinks, the odd energy drink and an assortment of iced teas. Ask me why."

"Okay, why?"

"Because," Marshall dragged the red plastic cooler by its extended handle, "tonight, we are going to introduce you to that most husbandly of traditions –and this does not have anything to do with sex- the honey do list. I called Tracy and asked her what three things she most wants done to the house right away." He pulled a crumpled receipt out of his pocket and read from the ballpoint scrawl on the back. "We are going to unstick the kitchen window, paint the guest room, and make the toilet in the bathroom stop making that whooshing sound when it flushes."

Ted stared hard first at Marshall, then Barney, then the two of them together. The only sounds were the neighbor's dog snuffling around the yard behind a white picket fence and the drone of a television –one of Robin's broadcasts, if he wasn't mistaken- coming from the open living room window of the house next door. They weren't kidding. "That," he said at last, "sounds perfect." He fit his key into the lock and swung the door open. "I decree we make this a new tradition. There will be no more bachelor parties in our group, only husband parties." He led them both inside and directed them to the kitchen.

"Only one problem with that," Barney said and deposited the takeout bag on the kitchen counter island. "After tomorrow, we're all out of single guys." He removed three Styrofoam containers and set them in the appropriate places. "Unless we want to count Marvin."

Marshall dragged three stools up to the island. "I don't even want to think about Marvin getting married. Right now, the love of his life is dinosaurs. It'll be awesome, though. Ted, you and Tracy will probably have at least one boy. Barney, you and Robin already have a boy dog."

Ted closed the silverware drawer louder than strictly necessary. The silverware rattled. "Dude, not cool."

"Sorry, Barney." Marshall gulped and ducked his head. "That didn't sound as insensitive when I was thinking it."

The scent of beef gravy filled the room as Barney lifted the lid of his container. "It's fine. Robin and I are good with the two of us. Besides, Stanley's fixed. There's JJ, though," he said and raised a gravy-dipped French fry to his mouth. "And Eli, if we're counting relatives."

Ted lifted the lid from the cooler and extracted three iced teas. "We're counting relatives. Also in-laws, right? Tracy and I could as easily have girls. Whoever Carly or Daisy or Rose or Sadie marries is going to need a proper introduction to the joys of matrimony. That's a lot of husbands." He opened all three bottles, then scowled. "If any of the guys marry other guys, do we have to throw two separate parties, or can we get away with one?"

"I guess it would depend on the guys," Marshall answered and reached for the stack of white paper napkins Barney had set in the middle of the counter. "I guess by that time, we'd know them well enough to know what they'd want. Right now, this is all about Ted, or as he will be known in less than twenty-four hours, Tracy's husband." He lifted his bottle. They all drank.

"As much," Ted said after he set down his bottle, "as I am looking forward to married life, I have to say that the life I have right now is pretty damned awesome exactly the way it is. I want to thank both of you for sticking with me for the journey thus far, and in advance for not cutting and running at any point in the future. I am only going to make one request of both of you." He waited for their nods of assent. "When you tell the story of this night, in all the years to come, and you will, there technically were two strippers present."

"Yeah," Barney said around a swig of iced tea, "and one of them was a dude."

Ted pushed the basket containing rolled cloth napkins toward the other two. "You can leave out the part about the dude."

Marshall answered with a wide grin. "Not a chance."

"Okay, fine," Ted agreed with an aggrieved sigh. It was fine, this life he had. His house, his friends, both present and not, and, tomorrow, Tracy, for the rest of his life. They'd all be gathered in this kitchen more times than he could even begin to count, at all hours of the day and night, in every possible combination. He couldn't think of anything finer.


End file.
